I Wish to Know You
by celticvampriss
Summary: This is my submission for RW2015: Wish. A historical AU. Petra is a governess and Levi is a piano instructor.
1. The Instructor

**A/N: My submission for RW2015 got out of hand with word count. So I made broke it up into chapters and I might continue it past that. **

Chapter One  
The Instructor

She had been employed at the house for little more than a week and, to the best of her knowledge, things were progressing adequately. Her employer had rarely been seen to otherwise inform her that her services were lacking and her charges were as receptive as a child might be to their studies. It was her sincerest effort to assume her place without upset to the rest of the house. She had brought few belongings but for some dresses, two pairs of shoes, her essentials, and some books.

Not that the books were needed with the expansive library tucked away in the eastern wing of the estate. She had never imagined that a person might own so many or that they would possibly find the time to read even half. It was impressive in the same way as the rest of the house, a grand show of splendor with very little thought to practical taste. If she possessed such a fortune as Erwin Smith, Earl of Stohess, she liked to think it would be put to more creative use. It was a fleeting fancy to even imagine, however, since the chances of her rising in station were as remote as their location from the hustle of Sina where she had spent her childhood.

Petra Ral was the current governess at Lord Smith's estate and though she was contented as she might ever be, she was also restless. She could feel it in her heart when she looked at the trees or the gardens and whimsy scurried about with her imagination, but Petra was dutiful and would never let on that her thoughts were anything but proper. Dutiful was one of her more useful traits, she had learned after her first position, and Petra went through considerable effort to ensure that her perception was never anything but poised refinement. She kept her head down when the situation called and her voice civil even when her mind lashed. And despite a deep routed longing for what she could not name, she truly did love her work. It was only alone or during walks through the garden or even at night when she could read by the fading light of her candle that she let her most intimate wishes stir.

Mikasa and Eren were adopted into the household by the Lord's late wife. Lady Smith's actions had evoked the appropriate gossip and social upset, for a lady of such position would surely be more concerned with conception of her own and where in heaven did she unearth such interesting children and what would possess her husband, renowned and respected Lord Smith, formerly Captain Smith, to all such a unique display? Lady Smith had been the talk for months after the, then four and five years old children, had been officially accepted into the Smith household, but everything quieted at her sudden and tragic death a few months later. The children stayed.

Presently, Petra was with both her charges, though Eren would be returning to boarding school after the summer, Mikasa would stay on and would require more appropriate tutoring. They were gathered around the piano, with Mikasa seated on the bench beside Petra, who was scrunching up her nose at the sheet music.

"No, that isn't right." Petra's pinky hit the wrong note and halted her already slow progress through the song. She hit another note. "No. No. Not that one either." Petra set her hands in her lap with a huff and blew the escaped strands of copper hair from her eyes. "Well, let us hope your father has finally hired an appropriate tutor. I can speak three languages but the subtly of printed music escapes me completely."

"Can we be finished for the day? Mikasa isn't going to learn if _you_ can't even manage an entire song." Eren swung his legs from the window ledge where he'd perched and started tapping his foot. A habit Petra had taken note to mean he was considering mutiny. Mikasa sat still as stone, but sent her brother a scathing glare.

Petra smiled sweetly. "You have just given me inspiration. Mikasa, let's scoot over and make room."

"What?" Eren sat up straighter. His leg stopped tapping.

Petra patted the now open end of the bench. "Three minds might be better than one."

His lips were drawn into a pout as he let himself fall onto the bench. His arms were crossed tightly against his chest and his posture slumped.

"Now then." Petra went back to the music. "I know I have this first part right." She played the first five notes. Eren and Mikasa mimicked. Then Petra reached for the next note and failed again, the sharp note ringing awkwardly off the walls. Petra had to swallow her curse—it wouldn't do to have the children relaying that their governess even _knew_ words of that nature.

After a few more minutes of the three of them playing a repeated five notes only to miss the sixth, Petra was about to dismiss them both and be done with it. She had just risen from her seat, dusting off her skirts, when she noticed that they were no longer alone.

Starting, she held a hand over her heart. "Good gracious." She caught her breath, heart settling, and she realized that the man was a stranger, not a member of staff. She knew the servants well enough by now and he wasn't exactly dressed as one. Not a man of name and breeding, either, or she might have assumed he was one of Lord Smith's friends.

Petra straightened and squared her shoulders. "Can I help you, sir?"

He was not very tall, but he stood with a casual confidence and a surety that made him almost imposing. His expression was not agreeable for having just startled a woman in a house that did not belong to him and given his nice, but not overly expensive suit, Petra was inclined to believe that he should know how to handle such a situation with more decorum. She was not impressed or cowered in any way, though she was starting to get agitated.

When she made her annoyance known on her face, he finally spoke.

"I'm the piano instructor."

Instantly, the sense of his comment clicked into her head, but that did not excuse his behavior. "And did you not think it appropriate to introduce yourself as such when slinking about and nearly scaring the wits out of me?"

He paused and shifted his stance, his expression never changed. "You're not the lady of this house." He said, as if this was excuse enough.

Petra's mouth opened and closed. She was about to snap right back when she remembered that the children were still with her, their interest clearly captivated by the conversation. Petra turned to them with as much softness as she could manage. "You are done for the day, you may be excused."

"Or." He said suddenly. "They are excused from your attempt at a lesson. I, however, was told to start today."

Petra's tongue grated on the roof of her mouth as she attempted to ground the choice words she _wished_ to use into submission. "I was not aware that anyone had been hired. I do not even know your name."

"You want to know my name?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

She nearly threw up her hands. "Introducing oneself, with a name, is normally considered polite, yes."

"You never did." He said, to which her mouth fell agape once more. "I was given orders, from Erwin—"

"Lord Smith." She corrected.

Then he very nearly smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. "I was given instruction to start immediately. I wasn't aware that I had to answer to the governess about it."

Petra's eyes narrowed.

"You're welcome to stay and watch. You could do with some instruction yourself, given what I just heard."

"_Over_heard." She snapped.

He paused again, eyes appraising her, then he moved further toward the piano where she had been an obstacle. He hesitated when it was time to actually walk past her, even though the room was large and provided enough space to go around without the risk of touching. Petra was far to incensed to bother with anything else. With a purpose in her step she strode from the room in a flutter of fury and swishing skirts. It was less decorum than she would normally display, but her emotions were peaked and she couldn't be bothered to care when there was little risk of anyone of import finding her.

She went immediately to the butler to confirm this piano instructor's story. It was, of course, none of her business, but she possessed a kind, open nature that, usually, evoked the confidence of others. From the butler she gathered his name, Levi Ackerman, and some semblance of his appointment to the household. All that was known was that he had been in the army with Lord Smith and that his new position was likely due to their acquaintance in the service. It seemed there was nothing left to tell except that Mr. Ackerman was in need of work and had once been gifted with the pianoforte. What irked her most about their brief meeting was that he had been exactly correct when he said his business was none of hers. She had no need to know anything about him.

When that night she had trouble sleeping, not even a novel to placate her tumultuous mind, she had little choice but to accept that the whole exchange had gotten out of hand. Where there was certainly fault on his part, _great_ fault in his manners and behavior, she was not entirely innocent. The thought was irritating since it worked at her conscious when she had no wish to feel guilty. As she turned over fiercely for the third time, her covers in a twist around her middle, she knew that apologies were in order if she were to keep their continued existence in the same house civil. Though she anticipated it might be harder in practice than in thought.

The following morning Petra woke with sun. She washed and dressed for her day and went to receive her breakfast in the little parlor of her room. The servants ate together downstairs, but Petra was not quite a servant. She, also, was not a member of the household and could not dine with them either. So she spent her mornings alone, happily, preparing herself for the day with quiet and some light reading. It would be another hour before she was required to begin the children's day and she huffed over her finished porridge since it was no longer reason to keep her from her duty. Rising from her chair she left her room and sought out Mr. Ackerman.

She imagined he would not be hard to find, but after twenty minutes of looking and inquiry, she began to lament that was exactly the case. There was precious time left to find him and if she didn't then apologizing would be all the harder later. It was best to see to it now.

After another few minutes she happened to hear music from the drawing room. She followed the notes down the corridor and stopped in the open doorway of the drawing room. She could only see his back, his head lazily lilting sideways as he played a soft melody. It was such a sweet sound, it was hard to associate it with the man she had met just yesterday. Her breath was light and she endeavored to be as quiet as possible to not disturb the sounds in the air. And then the softer, sharper notes drifted and changed to something she could not describe. A tempo and hardness that wasn't at all unpleasant and as her eyes caught the open window it set her heart racing. She could run to this music. She could do anything. And Petra's imagination began to soar, as it did, but never in company, and she was too caught up to be shocked or otherwise that she was letting her thoughts get away from her while in the presence of practically a stranger.

And when the music suddenly stopped, she almost didn't notice. She leaned into the white painted doorway and gazed out the window at the expansive grounds outside, toward the thickening of trees at the edge of the sculpted lawn. She was quite lost until a sudden deep, crisp voice broke her of her fantasy.

"Can I help you, Miss Ral?" He said, though there was no playfulness in his tone, expression, or otherwise, she somehow perceived that he was mocking her, since that was her first question to him. Though, somehow, in that time he had come to learn her name.

"No." She said quickly, then with a sharp breath added, "I mean to say, I'm sorry about the other day. I…" She looked up into his eyes, though they were not far off in height, and paused. He was not traditionally handsome by any means, though there was something striking about his features that, had she never spoken to him, would be pleasant to look at. His ancestry was certainly not local, but he spoke perfect English without accent or inflection. It was odd that she was not exactly distrustful of him, despite what she thought previously, and what she saw now she could not explain except that her anger quelled some. "I am sorry for my hand in our original meeting. I can…well, I have to work very hard to keep my comments appropriate. I did not behave very decently, it was unfair to expect the same of you. Though," she added with a smile, "You were hardly the picture of decency either."

He narrowed his eyes. "You apologize then insult me?"

"That was not my intent."

He nodded.

"Well." She prompted.

"Well what?"

Petra shook her head, giving it up. He was not going to offer her an apology in return. Though she was hardly surprised. "By way of proper greeting, I am the governess, Petra Ral."

"Yes, I know who you are." He said.

Her eyes crinkled in the corners, because this exchange was proving just as tedious as the last and, yet, without her nervous all rattled and without the children present to be mindful of, it was more entertainment this time. "And I you. I had to ask the butler, which is very unconventional, but then I don't think you care overmuch. Mr. Ackerman."

He put his hands into the pockets of his trousers and said nothing to her teasing.

"It seems that we are both in want of lessons, Mr. Ackerman." She said, "I for my horrid piano playing. And you for horrid manners." Her smile was warm and she meant every word she said, though he didn't seem to be playing along at all.

The thin line of his mouth dropped. "Some can't afford tutors."

"Oh, but my instruction would be very cheap." She said and it was very forward of her. It would be frowned upon if she were talking to anyone else, but there was something freeing about his coarseness for it allowed her to speak without much fear of insulting him, even though she imagined she had ventured on a subject that he did not take lightly.

"I don't need instruction." He said through his teeth.

"Mr. Ackerman, if I can admit my faults, surely you can own up to your own." Petra's eyes sparkled and she felt her shoulders begin to twist playfully. Something was coming over her and she was not yet ready to stop.

He blinked suddenly, taking a step back from her. His hand was up, thin elegant fingers—musicians hands—and he seemed to need distance from her, though she had not approached him at all. Petra suddenly did fear she had truly insulted him.

"Is everything all right?" She asked. "I'm sorry if I let my words run away from me. As I said, I can be too…but I honestly didn't think I would upset you—"

"You didn't." He said quickly, then he coughed into his fist and cleared his throat. "I'm not upset. I don't get upset. This is a ridiculous conversation."

"Oh." She pinched the edge of her glove and rolled it around in her fingers, sucking her lip into her teeth.

He was watching her curiously, but she offered no other words as the situation slipped into awkward. Then she was suddenly quite mortified to be there at all. Then she noticed the clock on the wall.

"Good gracious, it's nearly eight." She exclaimed. Without a word of goodbye she fled the room to fetch her students. She was going to be late and they would surely notice. Eren would be incorrigible about it, too.


	2. Lessons

Chapter Two  
Lessons

Over the next few weeks, Petra saw very little of the piano instructor. She dropped the children with him in the afternoons and then she was no longer required, and he had always made it a point to say so, so she had sought other activities to amuse herself. Then summer ended and fall arrived, with it went Eren back to school and left Mikasa without her brother.

He had been going to boarding school for some years now, though Petra had not been around for any of them, it did not take long to notice that Mikasa did not like him leaving. She had always been respectful and quiet, though not particularly shy or timid, and when he left there was little to make her smile. Her free time was still spent out on the grounds, with the horses or in the woods, but Petra felt she was lonely. If the stories were correct, they had been found as children together even though they were not biologically related and both of them without parents or known family. But together. And now they were not.

It was no surprise to Petra when Mikasa became ill not two weeks after Eren left. It was cold and she had been out much later than was advised. Mikasa had caught a bit of a cold, Dr. Zoe was the local doctor and had seen to Mikasa promptly and instructed she stay in bed for the next few days. Petra went in to read to her, but the poor girl slept more often than not. Petra would look into finding her some proper friends once she was better. The new stable hand was around her age, though not a traditional playmate and hardly suitable for a young girl, but Petra was never very comfortable with convention.

Petra left Mikasa's room and strolled through the halls. It was cold and rainy that day, hardly appropriate for a walk outside, so she headed for the kitchen where she could borrow a kettle for tea. When she arrived the kitchen maids were just finishing cleaning up.

"I'll take care of the pot and cup." Petra said, to console them of her using their freshly cleaned kitchen. Petra took out the kettle and started to fill it with water. She set it on the stove to warm and pulled her wrap tighter over her shoulders as she maneuvered a stool so she could sit at the counter.

Lulled by the light patter of rain and the slow boil of the water, Petra didn't hear anyone else enter the kitchen. She jumped, nearly knocking her seat over, then started to laugh.

"Heavens, you move so quietly." She said, addressing Mr. Ackerman.

He looked around the kitchen quickly. "Did the cook already head to bed?"

"Yes, she has a very early day. Is there something I can help you with?" She offered, cheered at the arrival of company and not caring who.

"I just…" He picked at the edge of his sleeve then seemed to notice and stopped himself. "Is that water for tea?"

"Why, yes it is. Would you like some tea, Mr. Ackerman?"

He cringed. "Don't call me that."

"Whatever else would I call you?" She said with a shake of her head as she grabbed another cup and saucer.

"Levi is fine."

Petra paused. "I couldn't…" Saying his given name felt too intimate. Not that it was unheard of, she had called plenty of people by their given names. It wasn't _entirely_ inappropriate. But when she pictured the name coming from her mouth, she couldn't get it out.

"I'm telling you to." He said. "Didn't you say something about a tendency to be inappropriate?"

"I may have mentioned…" How did he even remember? He hadn't appeared to pay the least bit of attention to anything she said.

"You did. And I'm telling you, I don't answer to Mr. Ackerman if I can help it."

"Fine." She pursed her lips. "You may not call me Petra."

"I didn't plan to." He said and he pulled up the stool, dragging it along the floor, and took the second cup. When she waited to see if he might offer any help in their tea preparation, she was hardly surprised to not receive it. He set his hand on his chin and stared through the window and the rain pouring down the glass. No conversation. No thank you. The impertinence of it, he was determined to put her off and yet she only found his efforts amusing. They slipped into silence while he took a cigarette from his pocket and lit it using a match near the stove. He shook the flame out and tossed the used match into a bin.

Petra wrinkled her nose at the smell. "Does it taste good?"

"What?" He asked.

"Does that taste good? Smoking?"

Instead of an answer he held it out to her, two fingers pinching the sides while smoke wafted from the lit end. Petra hesitated. Of all the things that smoking entailed, she did not expect her first worry to be that the same end of that cigarette had just been between his lips.

She blushed, swallowing. Mr. Ackerman—Levi—was watching her with casual interest while she seemed to debate the choice in front of her. Reaching forward with her head she parted her lips to try it, but he flinched backward.

"Just take it." He said quickly, passing the cigarette to her hands. She pinched it awkwardly, unsure how to hold it, and blinked.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" Petra sighed. "Never mind, thank you." She stuck it between her lips and was did not notice the sudden shift of his eyes to her mouth, where the grey seemed almost black. She inhaled lightly and abruptly began to cough as the toxic fumes choked her. Sputtering she handed it back and went to the basin to get some water to her throat.

"That's absolutely horrible." She exclaimed, wiping her lips on the back of her hand. Every breath in she feared she might start coughing again.

"It's an acquired taste." He said, setting it between his lips again. Petra licked hers just as the kettle started to whistle. She turned off the stove and stirred in some tea leaves through the sifter. She poured some into each of their cups and then offered him the sugar.

"It's fine." He said taking a sip. Petra wrinkled her nose, sticking her tongue out slightly. She put a healthy amount of sugar into her own cup then another pinch for good measure. She added a bit of cream and stirred it together, clinking her spoon on the side and then setting it on her saucer.

"Mr…um, Levi." She shuddered. If felt very private to say his name like that and she both hated and embraced the way it felt. "I was wondering if you could give me a few lessons on the pianoforte?"

He paused, tapping the end of his cigarette over his saucer, and not meeting her eyes. "Why?"

"Because I would like to learn."

There was a pause, where she was certain he would refuse, but instead he said quietly, "Fine."

Petra beamed. She finished her tea, not daring to comment on the way he had held his cup—was it a form of snobbishness or was it just another oddity of his character—and then he surprised her entirely by offering to clean up.

"I know how to wash a dish." He said, huffing as she exaggerated her surprise that he do anything bordering on nice. "You made it, I'll clean it. I don't mind cleaning."

"Then I have learned something new about you, I shall add it to the small list I have of what I know about you." Petra teased.

The next day, with Mikasa still stuck in bed, Petra met Levi for her first piano lesson. He had discarded the jacket and had rolled up the sleeves to his shirt, leaving his arms mostly bare. Petra's throat squeezed shut, a little squeak barely escaping. Dressing like that wasn't exactly proper, though she supposed it wasn't scandalous. Though, the way it was making her feel might have been. She was blushing furiously as she sat down on the bench.

He sat next to her, leaving space and she felt her breathing halt. Goodness, what was happening to her? One second she is lashing out him, then she's teasing him, and now she feels no better than a giddy school girl. It was ridiculous and, yet, exhilarating. She felt it in her heart, in her lungs, in her limbs, that alertness and nervous excitement. He set his fingers over the keys and she watched him play for a few seconds while he spoke, probably for instruction, but she didn't catch a word, too busy trying not to smile or giggle.

"Miss Ral?" He said again, harder.

"Hm?"

"The scales I just showed you?"

"Scales?" She bit her lip, fearing that she might be caught mid…what was this even called? The word _lust_ filled her head like a taunting whisper and she quickly blushed and then buried the word deep in her subconscious. This was not some romantic novel. Words like that did not apply to this situation. She was just being silly.

"Are you all right?" He asked, leaning on his fist with his elbow propped on the piano so he could see her face.

"Fine." She blurted.

"Do you really want to learn to play?"

"Yes." She insisted. "Yes, of course I do. I truly do. Please. I want to play the song you played before, the one that made me feel like I could do anything…" She closed her mouth suddenly, looking away.

"What song are you talking about?" He pressed.

"Just…I don't know what it is called, I've never heard it before. It was when I was, well, eavesdropping on your practicing. You were playing something soft and pretty at first, but then it changed and, I don't know, I've never been so affected by a piece of music before."

His mouth fell open then, for the first time looking truly shocked. It was gone just as quickly and he hurried to move the conversation along. "This is the last time I'm showing you. Like this." He ran through a scale quickly and then waited for her to copy.

Petra was breathless, understanding that she had just touched on something that he did not want to discuss. Her mind was spinning through all kinds of reasons for his secrecy, most of them farfetched and fanciful, reasons that made her stomach turn and her cheeks warm. But she placed her hand on the piano and mimicked him as best she could.

"Again." He said.

Petra ran through it again. It was just a simple scale of notes, but it was awkward for her fingers, which she imagined was part of the problem.

He ran through another set, this one a bit harder and waited for her to follow. Petra tried, but her fingers didn't move properly. After two more times he reached out and tried to position her hand correctly. He had hesitated only for a second, but she had noticed, and his touch was so light and fleeting she was pouting when he drew away. She felt cheated.

"Have you ever played before?" He asked, playing absently with his free hand. Show-off.

"I did, but my lessons were cut short I'm afraid." She watched his hand glide over the keys from the corner of her eye. "I had enough lesson in other areas, it wasn't necessary to complete my education. I don't think I have the knack for it anyway. Not the way you do."

He stopped playing. "If I didn't have a talent for it, I wouldn't play at all." He said.

"Why do you say that? Surely you enjoy it. Would you enjoy it less if you had to work harder for it?" She was watching him, but could only see the side of his face. The longer strands of his black hair covered his eyes.

He tapped the keys with one finger. "I don't know. I think I like it because it's so easy. I was never taught how to play. I'm just naturally very good at it."

"And modest, I see." She quirked her lips and she was pleased that his expression lightened.

"It's just fact." He stopped again, looking at her. They were so close, she had forgotten just how close the piano bench put them. She knew she was blushing, but she also couldn't look away. That guarded, bored expression he so often used to hide what she had suspected was always there had shifted. She was seeing through it now, clearly as she saw her own eyes in a mirror, only his weren't large and honey brown, but grey and sharp. It sent her nerves rushing through her.

Petra's lips parted and she felt the room fade into nothing, her world condensing onto one single point and if she had been standing her knees would have gone weak, her heart close to swooning. He was watching her, until his eyes dipped once, ever so quickly, to her mouth. And then she knew. This was not just her.

When he continued to make no move, Petra found herself leaning. Her shoulder bumped his. Her head began to tilt as her eyes started to close. She was completely ready to dive into what the here and now was offering her, without any regard for what would come later.

"Miss Ral?"

She stopped, her eyes fluttering open. "_Petra_." She offered, wanting to hear him say it.

He nodded and she felt him begin to retreat. First by moving further down the bench. "We've covered enough this lesson." He started to stand, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Petra was left gaping, unsure of what exactly had changed that made him suddenly get up and call the end of the lesson. Maybe she was, once again, being too forward. "Yes. Of course." She said, still a little breathless.

"Uh, you can practice what I showed you on your own for now." That casual confidence had left and he was scrambling backward, reeling. She thought she saw the hint of red on his ears.

"Yes, thank you." She said, standing.

He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze.

"Levi?"

His eyes closed briefly before he answered her. "Yes, Miss Ral?"

She frowned. "I said you may call me Petra."

He nodded again.

"I just want to know…" She chewed her lip. "You will still continue to teach me?"

He finally managed to look up. "You think that's appropriate?"

"I beg your pardon?" She said, eyes going wide.

"I just…" He closed his mouth, then shook his head. "I'll teach you as long as you want me to."

"Good." She said firmly. "Then we have an understanding."

"I don't understand you at all." He said, with a bit of a groan. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, it was the most expressive she had ever seen him.

She walked forward and let the rush of her haywire emotions move for her. She reached up and set the tips of her fingers on his chest. "I think," She said, "I am beginning to understand you, Levi." Then she dipped in and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. "I very much wish to know more."

There was some feminine thrill in leaving him a speechless statue as she left the room. She delighted herself thinking how long he stood there before he moved. Frozen with that ridiculous look of shock while his ears turned bright red. She felt particularly satisfied with herself for being bold enough to kiss him. Her fingers played with her lips the entire way to her room. They tingled and left a ripple of gleeful warmth throughout her body. There was little she could do to deny it at this point, but she was very much infatuated—for love might still be too strong a word—with Levi Ackerman. Infatuated, enamored, rendered senseless and completely alive. She could not say she was in love with him. But she sensed she was very _very_ close to falling.


	3. Night Practice

Chapter Three  
Night Practice

Petra was called to Lord Smith's study, for what she had no idea, but she was not nervous. Lord Smith, in her few dealings with him in person, had a commanding presence but was overall very amiable. She knocked when she arrived, her boots leaving little dents in the plush carpet at this end of the house. It was much colder over here than where she usually stayed. She wished she had grabbed her wrap.

When she was called to enter, she strode into the room with her chin up. That is, until she saw that the Lord of the house was not alone. Leaning into the arm of a chair with his arms crossed and his posture hunched was Levi, his expression unreadable in her flustered state.

"Miss Ral, thank you for seeing me." Lord Smith gestured to the chair with his good arm, the left had been removed up to the shoulder. Reasons unknown, though Petra knew it was something to do with the service. She took in the casual air that Levi had taken in the Lord's office. It was unnerving having him there. He made her pulse race unnecessarily.

"Of course, my lord." She began a bit shaky, but found her voice quickly. Timidity would not do.

Lord Smith leaned back in his chair, an odd thread of amusement mixed with his concern. Petra had no idea what to think. "I called you in here about Eren."

She nodded. "I see, is he doing all right at school? We do miss him around, when he is gone." She said, thinking of Mikasa.

Lord Smith smiled, wanly, "Then I guess his coming home early isn't entirely bad news."

Petra's mouth fell, but she snapped it shut quickly. Her thoughts raced, but she focused on keeping her words proper. "Is he alright?"

"Yes, he's fine." Lord Smith waved away her concern, but she was not satisfied. "He's being expelled."

Petra inhaled sharply.

"I am having him brought straight to me when he arrives home. I was informed that there was a fight involved, but I know Eren and I want to get the details straight from him. I don't see this as in his character, to start that kind of trouble purely for the sake of it. I would hear his reasons before I decide what to do."

"That's very fair of you, my lord." Petra felt her heart ease. She had come to a similar conclusion, but it was not her place to say as much.

Lord Smith sighed then, and tapped the fingers of his right hand on his desk. "I never even wanted children." He smiled. "That was all my wife's doing. Now I can't imagine that my life would be better without them."

To the side, Levi scoffed. He drew their attention, but made no move to apologize. Lord Smith laughed. "My friend doesn't think much of my life."

Petra lowered her head demurely. "It would not entirely be his place to make a judgment, your lordship."

Levi's eyes focused on her quickly, though she ignored him with purpose.

Lord Smith laughed again, "That would be the expected response. I, however, like to consider all ways of thinking when I can. I value the perspective, even if it makes him seem disagreeable and rather spinsterly."

"_Spinsterly_?" Levi said, now rounding on his employer.

Petra giggled into her hand.

Lord Smith continued before Levi could retort, once again addressing the matter that he had called for Petra in the first place. "I wanted to inform you of Eren's arrival so that you can work him into your lessons again. I know it's sooner than expected, but until I get to the bottom of this and get him registered at another school, he'll be here. And I'll not have him idle."

"It is no trouble, your lordship." Petra said with a bow of her head.

"Good, thank you. I hated to inconvenience you."

"Not at all. My employment requires that I instruct both children of this house, when they are at home. I am merely doing my job." Petra said, with a sudden flash of her eyes at Levi, she added, "I would be happy to take on Mr. Ackerman as a student, if you wished. Under my watch he would be perfect for the Sina season that approaches. He'd be the perfect lady when I finished."

Lord Smith snickered and watched Levi, whose focus was solely for Petra.

"And I'm the one lacking manners." Levi murmured, clearly miffed.

Lord Smith looked between them for a minute before clearing this throat and dismissing Petra. Petra could feel Levi's eyes on her as she left and she spared him no attention until she was out of that room. It would not do to have Lord Smith interpret the way she looked at him.

-00-

Petra slipped into the drawing room. It was late, much too late for her to be out of bed, and she used her candle to light the sconces in the room. Only a few, enough to see, but not so much it would be an effort to put them all out again. She crossed the room, still in her day clothes, though her hair had been released from its appropriate bun. She set her candle on the piano.

There was never time for her to practice. Now that Eren was to return home she would be even busier between the two of them. He was scheduled back tomorrow and Petra wanted to get as much practice in as she could before sleep became more important to her.

It was not that she was particularly interested in the pianoforte. It was more of a drive to learn. Petra enjoyed learning, it was what made her transition into governess bearable. How often would she be able to learn from a proper instructor for free? And if she was incredibly lucky, she would learn that song he had played before this whole thing inevitably ended.

Petra ran through her scales, the harder ones still tripping up her fingers. She began to hum as she played, trying to recreate that song in her mind, but she was just as skilled with singing as she was with pianos.

"That's horribly off-key."

She didn't jump, the voice that broke her concentration was too familiar by now. It did send a shudder down her spine, however. The darkness of the room and the late hour, his presence in the room with her felt very clandestine.

"I never claimed to be a singer." She said brightly, turning over her shoulder to see him.

"You're tone deaf. You know that?"

Petra shook her head. "Please stop flattering me, it's going to confuse my delicate feminine sensibilities."

Levi snorted. "You're hardly delicate."

Now Petra turned, her legs swinging over the bench so that she straddled it. And she didn't care. And that was the best part.

"You are bordering on insulting me, Levi." She snapped, though her eyes were still dancing. There were so many heavy shadows cast about the room and he wore them well.

He laughed dryly. "How _spinsterly_ of me."

Petra hid her smile behind her hand. "You're not still cross about that?"

"I don't give a shit either way." He said, taking her off her guard. He used the word so casually, and yet she had never heard him use it before. If she had any insight to these things, she would say it was a word he was comfortable with and used often, though probably not at decent hours or in decent company.

He walked into the room and stood over her so she had to crane her neck to see him from the bench. Her skirts were everywhere, splayed around her legs as she sat most unladylike. Her cheeks began to warm, but he was regarding her with something more like impatience.

"Are you going to let me sit or should I just sit on the skirt?" He asked and Petra shuffled her skirt out of his way. He sat down, this time so that their shoulders brushed. Her breath left her.

"Do you always practice in the middle of the night?" He said, running his fingers over the keys in a quick warm-up.

"I could ask you the same thing." She said.

He shrugged. "I don't always sleep well. As I said, I like playing."

"I'm sorry." He said quickly, still playing with both hands and otherwise ignoring her. Petra had no idea what he was apologizing for, specifically, since there were so many of his actions that warranted it.

"What are you sorry for, if I may ask?" She craned her head, her hair falling over her shoulder.

"For swearing. I don't normally apologize for it, but it seemed to shock you so I'm sorry." He drifted into that slow melody she remembered him playing so long ago. Her skin tingled at the memory, anticipation thrilling her. She did not speak again, hoping that the change in key and tempo would happen again, the one that made her heart fly. She closed her eyes.

He stopped playing suddenly and Petra opened her eyes to find his hands fallen into his lap and his eyes on her. She felt silly, tucking her hair behind her ear and smiling shyly. She was flushed and her heart was scattered.

"Why did you stop? That's the song I wanted you to teach me." She said. "You never did tell me what it was called."

"It doesn't have a name." He said, still watching her.

"Oh? Do you know the composer then?" She bit her lip and began to play with her fingers in her lap, wishing she had the comfort of her gloves.

"I'd say so." He said, lifting a single finger to rest on a note. It peeled for a long time as it slowly quieted. "I wrote it."

"You?" Petra blinked, thoughts tumbling again. She always thought too fast and never fast enough. "You wrote that beautiful song?"

"You're shocked." He said, the faintest smile growing.

"No, no, just…well yes a bit shocked. I never supposed you were a composer." She said.

"It comes with the talent." He said, without a hint of pride. Strange that he was so arrogant and yet he seemed to think less of himself than everyone else. Certainly, then she ever could. In what little she had learned, she knew that there was so much there to know if one bothered to look.

He was looking away from her now. She always felt so much freer around him. That lack of social grace that had so infuriated her when they first met had become her favorite quality of his company. She wasn't reserved around him, she didn't hold back. She didn't have to censor her words. Even now, when her words seemed so inappropriate she didn't feel socially responsible for holding them back, only, just personally afraid.

Without a word he took her hand in his and it wasn't hesitant or gentle like it had been, but there was still reservation. He set her fingers over the keys and rested his hand over hers. He pressed down so that her finger hit a note and then he played another and another. Until a very slow version of the song he had played started. He used his other hand to play on its own, but he was still guiding Petra, if her clumsy fingers missed the note he quickly corrected. The pressure was so light on her hand and she was in awe when she found her muscles learning. He needed to guide her less and less, though she still did not know which notes came next, she had begun to learn how to move her hand to play them. She let him run through until the faster part started and then she could no longer keep up. He moved her hand so that their arms ended up locked together at the elbow and kept playing on his own.

Petra swayed, lingering whenever her shoulder came to rest on his, and let her eyes drift closed. She wasn't aware that she had stopped and had come to fully rest her head on him. The song carried on and she used her free hand to clasp where their arms were still hooked together, her fingers beginning to play over the fabric of his jacket.

It seemed a long time before it stopped. Once again he moved his hands to his lap and said nothing, just staring down at the keys. Petra shifted so she was no longer resting on him, but still close enough to see through the strands of his hair that fell over his eyes with his head bowed forward.

"That really is a lovely song." She said quietly, not sure what she was whispering except that without the music the silence felt greater.

He said nothing, but made two fists against the top of his thighs, and Petra leaned back fully to give him space.

"I'm sorry." She said, because it felt like it was necessary. "Thank you for playing for me. It's very late, I should be getting to bed." She stood, the magic of the moment suddenly leaving her and she felt wanting for it to return. He stood up with her, which was a polite habit that she didn't think he possessed, and when she went to leave he stopped her with a light touch to her arm that he quickly withdrew.

Petra smiled, giving him her warmest goodnight since he looked positively wrecked. She had no idea what could be the cause, but that it was very possible he didn't want to share. She wouldn't press him for an answer. She could be patient if he was ever going to confide in her at all.

He moved with her to the door, then seemed to realize she did not need an escort back to her room, this was not some Sina back alley. She stood on the outside of the doorway and him just on the inside still, not yet having stepped out of it to join her.

"I hope that you might trust me enough to tell me what is bothering you, but for now, Good night." She didn't move. Her feet wouldn't move.

When her moment to slip away passed he reached out and took her hand, pulling her back into the room and shutting the door. The suddenness of it made Petra's breath catch and she found herself backed against the closed door with him too close to be decent.

"You realize that your position here completely hinges on how you are perceived." He said, bringing her up short as that was not what she had expected to hear.

"I…yes, I understand my position perfectly." She finished stronger, not taking to his implication that she would be unaware of something so important.

"You realize that just being in here, with me, at this hour, is enough to get you fired?" He looked at her with a fierceness that told her this was not some sort of joke. He was being completely serious.

She wanted to laugh. "Of course I understand that. I take responsibility for all my actions and I never do so without knowledge of their consequences."

He stood back, letting her breath a bit. "And you obviously don't care."

"I do care. I care very much about my position here. It's work that I need to live." She took a steadying breath as she processed what she was hearing.

"But do you understand who you are risking it for?" His jaw locked and his eyes were hollow when they met hers.

She took a step forward, so that _she_ was invading _his_ space and set both her hands on the lapels of his jacket, lightly taking them in her hands. "I take full responsibility for all my actions, Levi. I do not need someone else to worry over them for me."

Her breath was coming hard in time with her heart and she felt a rush in the moment, like something real was taking place and she needed to seize it or lose it forever. She was searching for her next words, something to say that would convince him that she knew exactly what she wanted. She knew exactly what she wanted.

Petra lifted her head to meet his, lips falling flush with his mouth in a rush. And the action stalled her because she had never truly kissed anyone before and to feel it now, when she had often wished to share such an experience with him, it was soothed her frantic thoughts. Petra allowed her lips to pull back so she could run her tongue lightly over them and then kiss him again properly. This time with a gentle pressure and her heat tilted for a better angle. This time with her heart on her sleeves.

For the longest time he seemed immovable. When his head finally turned his hand moved to rest at the base of her neck, strands of hair sifting against his fingers. And he leaned in to her and breathed her in and Petra felt her body melt with the simmering intensity of it. They had no recollection of how long that kiss lasted. Maybe hours. But soon her body was overwhelmed and she had to pull apart to collect herself. Her fingers shook and tingled in all the best ways. She felt unsteady on her feet and let him support her while she caught her breath.

"That was very inappropriate of me." She said, smiling. "And I would like to do that again."

His eyes were wider than she had ever seen them and it roused a bout of laughter from her. It was too precious. She cuddled herself closer, enjoying the feel of him even through their clothes. It didn't feel indecent, it felt comfortable. Safe. Right.

He swallowed and let his cheek fall against her hair, using her for support, it seemed, as much as she used him.

"Would you?" She ventured, rubbing her head along his cheek and staring into the crook of his neck while her finger drew patterns on his shirt. It was so easy to slip into this physical intimacy, like she had been seeking out his touch for the whole of her life.

"I should say no." He said, a hint of strain in his voice.

Petra grinned. "But you won't."

"You don't make it easy."

She sighed and lightly pressed on his chest so that he leaned back and she could see his face. "I don't intend to ever make things easy for you." Her words were received just as he used his fingers to pull her chin into another kiss. This time a short, heated exchange. And it was all the convincing she needed.

* * *

_A/N: For right now this is all I have, but after RW is finished-since I still have a lot of work left to do-I might continue this._


End file.
